


Eat You Alive

by AngelinaVansen (catherineflowers)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kidnapping, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/pseuds/AngelinaVansen
Summary: Set in an AU where the Caretaker never pulled Voyager into the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay has been imprisoned for his role in the Maquis, and decides he wants to find the Captain who captured him.





	Eat You Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the early 2000s for the 6th Voyager Blue Alert contest's New Stories category.
> 
> Warnings for violence and unpleasant scenarios that some may find upsetting.

Hey you. Janeway. Kathryn Janeway. You don't know it yet, but this is your last day alive.

I'm watching you right now, drinking coffee with your boyfriend, sitting at a white table outside your favourite café. You look good today, the weather's getting warmer and you look good in your summer dresses. 

Peaches and cream with your red bun and white skin and peach lipstick on your smiling lips. On the rim of your coffee cup. 

I'm watching you as I've been watching you every day for the past seven months. Ever since I escaped that godforsaken hole you sent me to. 

It was easy to find you, you know. I thought you'd be hard. I thought you must have all sorts of enemies, that you'd be in hiding, that you'd live a quiet, secluded life. I know you live in that strange traditionalist community out in Indiana, but that's not much of a hiding place, you know.

For fuck's sake, Janeway, your name's on your mailbox.

In seven months, I've been pretty much everywhere you've been. You've never seen me of course. You don't expect it, and that's your downfall. But Captain, I've been there. A face in the crowd, a shadow against the wall. I've been hot on your heels. Breathing down your neck.

I'm sorry I have to do that. I regret it. Or rather, the old Chakotay does. That's what I call him now, the man you captured. The old Chakotay. He doesn't really exist now, thanks to you. After you handed him over to the Cardassians, let him rot in that living hell, he pretty much faded away. 

Funny how being tortured and starved and raped and forced to watch everyone you care about being horribly murdered will do that.

What didn't fade away was your face. That kept me company through all those dark nights, my Kathryn. My Kathryn Janeway. Your face and your name ...

The nobility of you, what I thought was dignity and decency. I trusted you. Let you come to the brig where you held me on your ship, let you talk to me, almost Captain to Captain.

Believed you when you promised Starfleet wouldn't turn me over to the Cardassians. I believed in your belief in them, in your belief in yourself. Even though I knew what you were, Fleet brat. The same as all those noble Captains who had come to my world and sworn protection they had never provided.

I never believed a single one of them. Why were you any different?

You were different because you got under the old Chakotay's skin, my Kathryn. He was drawn to you. Something magnetic there. Hell, what am I saying? He wanted you. Desired you. Was attracted to you in some unfathomable fashion.

He used to dream about you, behind the forcefield of his prison cell, dream about fucking you. Penetrating your soft white sex and shooting his load over those firm little breasts of yours.

You didn't know that. Or maybe you did, and you used it to your advantage. To Starfleet's advantage.

Coming to me, smelling so good, laughing with me, touching my arm. Talking to me as though we were the only two people in the world. You must have known what you were doing. 

You made me tell you things I should never have told you. Things you fucking used against me in my trial. Things that condemned my friends to death and killed me too. Fucking killed me. 

You fucking owe me, Kathryn Janeway. You owe me a lot of fucking lives. 

That's why I've come looking for you, it's why I've been watching you. I've decided, just as you decided all that time ago for me, that you don't deserve to live. I've been judge and jury for you darling. All I have to do now is play executioner. 

One good thing about being left at the mercy of Cardassian torturers is that an old dog certainly can learn new tricks. Tricks that make a person scream and scream and scream.

Today's the day, Janeway. Today's the day I've been waiting for. Your boyfriend leaves for his business trip in an hour, he won't be back for a week. You'll be home alone because you're on leave as well. Waiting for Voyager's Barion Sweep to be completed out at the Roemler Array. 

Oh I know everything, don't I. Everything. 

I know where you'll be all day today, precise timings. I've been listening to all your calls. Reading all your mail and messages. I know when you'll be home tonight, what you'll do. Exactly what you'll wear as you slip between your pale Egyptian cotton sheets. I know the codes for your doors, the frequencies of your security systems. I know it all.

I also know that when your boyfriend, the philosopher Mark Hobbes Johnson, returns from his conference, he'll find you dead and raped and chopped in six nice little pieces all over your nice little house. 

Just like poor B'Elanna. Right in front of me.

You deserve it, for B'Elanna. For Ayala too, poor bastard. And Seska, God knows what happened to Seska. Oh my Kathryn, you deserve the animal you turned me into.

You kiss him and smile at him as he walks away, his PADDs and his briefcase and his overnight case right with him. Hey Janeway, look at him. Look at him. It's the last time you're ever going to see the man you love. I hope he fucked you good this morning. I hope you didn't have to fake those two orgasms I heard.

You drink some more coffee and then you get up and walk away. Dress swinging over your narrow hips and the sun on your skin like pale silk milk. You're visiting your friend, the one that called you last night. An Admiral of some kind you promised that you'd eat lunch with.

I'm not going with you, for once. No, I'm going to my place, Kathryn. I have a lot to do while you're at lunch with your Admiral. 

I've been living in the woods near your town. In the nature reserve. No one goes there, it's protected. I've been living off the land in there. My father would be proud. In a way, it's become a home.

I want you to see what I've done out there. I want it to be the last thing that you ever see. What you've done to me.

I go there, to the little clearing I've made for you, prepare the things I've been preparing for today. I touch everything with reverence. The bedroll I've been sleeping on, the blanket. This is where I will rape you. I lie for a while on my back and look up at the things you will see while I am inside you. The chair I found, thrown out behind your house. This is where I will tie you while I tell you why I'm doing this. I sit for a while and imagine what it will be like for you to cry with fear as you realise you are going to die. I caress the rope I have bought to tie you up. I touch it all.

Soon, Kathryn, it will all be touching you. 

I go to your house to wait for you. I am not sure exactly when you will return, and I don't want to miss you. I enter the code for your door. 6 ... 7 ... 6 ... 2 ... 4 ... 9. I turn off your alarm system. I give your security cameras false readings. I shut your dog in the dining room.

I explore. Not that I haven't been inside your house a dozen times before. But every time I do I feel close to you. Closer.

There are some breakfast dishes on the kitchen counter. One has remnants of your oatmeal in it. I know that's what you eat in the morning, mixed with a little brown sugar. I pick up your spoon and lick where your tongue has licked, the cold dull metal. Tasting the things that you taste.

I stroke the banister of your staircase as I go upstairs, imagining your small white hand running over it. You have such tiny fingers, Kathryn. Tiny feminine hands. I remember the old Chakotay being drawn to them, attracted. I remember him fantasizing about them being wrapped around his cock. I remember him feeling guilty about that fantasy. Stupid fuck.

Upstairs, I seek what I always seek. Dirty laundry. I know you have some, my dear Kathryn, you're a traditionalist. You don't recycle your clothes while you're at home. I want to see the clothes you wore yesterday, that blue dress with the scoop neck. The blue bra you wore underneath. The white satin panties.

The panties. They are right on the top of your hamper, rolled at the sides where you stepped out of them undressing last night. For a moment I can't touch them. It is almost too much. Then I grab them, devour them, devour their scent, eyes closed, sucking it deep. Deep, inside me, an intimate part of you. Janeway. Oh God Kathryn Janeway, so soon you'll be mine.

I stuff your panties in my pocket as I hear the door opening downstairs. It's you. You are home. Welcome home.

I hear you singing to yourself as you walk around the house. Getting a vase, filling it with water, arranging some flowers that you've bought. Putting them on the worktop. Going to the mirror in the hallway to take the pins out of your hair. Always singing. Softly. Badly. 

I move in behind you, so quiet you don't hear. So close, probably the closest I've been to you since we left Voyager. Intimately close to the scent of your skin, the back of your neck. Hard like a rock in my pants. That's good. I'll need that.

You don't even sense me. You don't know I'm here. I'm inches from you, breathing on you, skin alive with nerves.

No, you don't sense me till I grab you. Around the waist, beneath your breasts, one hand over your mouth to stop you screaming.

It doesn't stop you at all. You freak out, scream the place down through my hand. Kicking, clawing, scratching, biting. But you're not strong, Captain Janeway. You're tiny. You can't hurt me, no matter how much training Starfleet gave you. I push you against the wall and make you feel my erection. Its persistence. It scares you more. It should, my Kathryn. You should be very scared.

I drag you to your kitchen, but I know you won't go quietly. I throw you to the floor. You hit the worktop first though, and you smash your nice vase. The water goes all over you. The glass cuts you a little bit. You bleed. 

Just you wait. You'll soon see what bleeding is.

You try to get up again, and I hit you. Backhanded. Across the cheekbone with a crack. That's all it takes. You're so small, it knocks you cold.

You lie there. Unconscious. Struggling a little to come round. Fingers moving a little. Your blood spattered a little on the floor.

I look at you. I'm breathing heavily. I see you, lying there at my mercy. On your back. Your mouth open a little bit. God you look good. So good. Your lips are wet, your breasts are moving. Your hair is spread out on the floor. I can't help myself, Kathryn. I can't believe the feelings I have right now. Not even the old Chakotay wanted you like this. 

It's all I can do to stop myself raping you right now. But no. That isn't the plan. You might not even know that it's me yet. I don't think you've gotten a clear look yet. You have to know that it's me. You have to know why first, as well.

I pick you up in my arms, and you weigh next to nothing. Your skin is so warm through your dress, your light summer dress. I can see the shape of your breasts, the lace of your bra. I can see your nipples where your dress is wet from the water of the vase you broke. 

I am overcome by an urge to kiss your mouth, but I don't. I am worried it would lead to more, or that it would wake you up, like Snow White and Prince Charming. I don't want to have to hurt you more to knock you out again.

I activate my site-to-site transporter, an illegal device that helped me escape from that hell you sent me to. It's not good, it only has a short range and it hurts like hell. It feels like every molecule has been ripped apart and burned. By the time we rematerialize in the clearing of my nature reserve, our skins are smoking slightly.

Not surprisingly, it brings you round. Makes you scream. Fight me. I have to throw you into the chair and hit you again to shut you up. Sure, we're kilometers from anywhere right now, but I don't want to take the risk.

I move behind you as you groan, waking. Becoming aware of your surroundings. How much it sounds like a groan of pleasure, Kathryn. How much it turns me on. I sweep your long loose hair over your shoulder, feeling its weight and softness. I tie the ropes around your arms, making them tight so they bite into your skin. Cut off the blood. Your flesh is white. 

Then I go and sit, cross legged, in front of you. Watch you. You look at me, trying to focus. Feeling that you are tied. It scares you. I see that, But you're not stupid. You're a trained Starfleet officer. I see it in your eyes as you regain consciousness. You're already thinking of negotiation. 

"Cha ... Chakotay?" you manage. Your voice.

I don't say anything. I watch you watch me, come to terms with me. I watch you think about it. I watch it seep under your skin. I am here for you, Kathryn.

"What's going on, what are you doing?" You do sound a little frightened now.

I just stare at you. Your white skin, your red hair. The light on both. I just want to look at you. I just want to look at you all day.

"Chakotay, answer me," you say. Demanding. I almost laugh. Fuck me, Kathryn Janeway. You've been beaten up and kidnapped and tied to a chair by a crazed renegade, and you're STILL giving orders. Fleet to the bone I guess.

"You know you look beautiful, Kathryn?" I hear myself say.

For a moment, you don't speak. I guess you don't know how to react to that one. But you lower your voice, matching my tone. Just the way they teach you.

"Chakotay ..." you say. Using my name. What a shame. What a shame the old Chakotay's dead, my dear. He might well have responded to the bullshit you have planned.

I cut you off. "Shut up Janeway," I tell you. "You don't get to speak. You don't get to say a fucking thing."

Still you persist. "Chakotay what happened?" My name again. Again with my name.

"I brought you here, that's what happened," I say. "I abducted you and I brought you here."

"Wha ... why?!" you splutter. Straining against your ropes. I think you're beginning to realise I'm not the man I used to be.

"Because somebody has to PAY!" I scream, right in your face. You jump out of your skin, and your eyes go wide. "Somebody has to pay, Kathryn. Kathryn fucking Janeway. Somebody has to pay for what happened to my fucking friends."

"What, the Maquis?" you spit, almost contemptuously. 

I hit you. You sanctimonious Starfleet bitch, I hit you with all my strength. I knock the chair over backwards with the force of it. I make you cry out.

"YES the Maquis. Jesus ... Jesus. You ... you just shut your mouth, Janeway. You don't have any right to say that."

You're dazed on the floor. Blinking away the stars. I pick you up, hauling the chair back up again. There is a red mark on your cheek. There is blood in the corner of your mouth. You spit a little of it out.

You raise your eyes to look at me. Looking me right in the eye. You have some guts, little woman. A lot of guts.

"You betrayed us. You befriended me and you betrayed us. All of us."

"What did you expect, Chakotay? I was doing my job. For Christ's sake, you were my prisoner and I was interrogating you. What did you want from me?"

"I thought we had an understanding. I trusted you."

"I defended you! At your trial, even afterwards ... I told them, didn't I, that you were a decent man. I told them you had earned my respect, that you'd earned Tuvok's respect ...."

"It wasn't enough!"

"Then how is that my fault?! For Christ's sake, you knew the risks! You were a criminal. A terrorist, a ringleader at that. You were a criminal and you got caught, what the hell did you expect? A slapped wrist? Forgiveness? You committed CRIMES against the Federation, against the people I am sworn to protect. I'm sorry your friends are in prison, but you all knew what the risks were."

"My friends are dead!"

"What?"

"You know they are, you can't be that fucking ignorant of what goes on in Cardassian prisons!"

You aren't saying anything. You look pale. The dying sun of the day is washing over your face, and your mouth is open. You don't seem to have breath for your words, Kathryn. What game is this?

"No," you say. "No ... you ... you went to New Zealand, Chakotay. You and the Maquis. Your crew ... you were sent to New Zealand, awaiting transport to the Luna Facility."

Oh, I have to hit you now. I do. I hit you hard across the face, grab you by the hair to stop you falling. Those lies, I've heard them all before. I heard them from Starfleet lips over and over and over. Relocation. Transport. Exchange. Diplomacy. Your lying Starfleet lips. Sexy ... peach lips.

"We went to Durrdret!" I shout at you. Spitting in your face. Pulling your head back to see the line of your throat. "And YOUR testimony sent us there. Every single one of us, and I am the ONLY one left!"

The pain of that is too much. It's too much. It overwhelms me, fills me, brings out the animal. The animal you made, Kathryn. Here he is. All yours my sweet Kathryn. All fucking yours.

I throw you over again, off that chair. Tear at your ropes. Rip them off you, pulling that long skein of hair. It smells good, but I don't care. Your dress feels good too, soft and cottony. But it's your skin I want. I push you on the bedroll, fighting me. Teeth now, and nails too. The whites of your eyes, rolling and terrified. Your tongue in your mouth as you scream and I throttle you with one of my hands, pressing down on your throat. 

I bite your throat, tasting your skin, smelling it. It smells good, like an autumn garden. Rich and full. The sweat of your terror mixed with the lilies of your perfume. Oh God. I want to fuck you ... you bitch ... you cold hearted beautiful bitch.

I rip your panties, your pink soft panties. Down one side and you freeze. No screaming. No fighting all of a sudden. 

"No ..." you breathe. So soft I barely hear you. I barely do. I have my cock in my hand, stroking you with it. "Chakotay please don't ... not that ...."

Your gentle voice. It throws me back, back to that cell where I lived on your ship. Your voice. It touched me, it touched the man I was before, as surely as your hand on my arm. Your small white hand. The trust I had in you.

The way I felt for you.

"You're a good man, Chakotay, you don't want to do that ..."

For a moment, you almost reach me. All I can see is your hand on my arm, your eyes holding mine. That strong voice of yours, talking to me, talking. Asking me questions. Making me trust you. But that was a lie. That was ALL a lie. This is a lie as well.

"No!" I scream. "No! Fuck you Janeway, fuck you! You have to PAY!"

I hold you down. I hear you cry out as I spread open your legs. Pushing them open so wide I hurt you. Feel resistance in your muscles. Your lovely soft thighs. White and slim. Just how the old Chakotay fantasised in his cell.

Press against you. This is going to hurt, my dear Captain. This is going to hurt you a lot.

"No ... please Chakotay ... you don't ... you don't need to ... I've already paid ..." 

You have tears on your face now. Pain. You are reaching out to me, one slim pale hand. Little fingers. The same little fingers that would rest on my arm.

"I was there too," you sob. "I've been in a Cardassian prison. I know ... oh God ... I know ...."

You are crying now. Really crying. Face turned into the bedroll, sobbing like a child.

"You were?" I ask. Moving back a little.

"Yes," you sob. "I was ... when I was an Ensign ... on the Icarus ..."

I pick you up. Thinking of you in the hell I just came from. Bring you to my chest. Holding you tight. Not only keeping your prisoner now. "What did they do to you, Kathryn?" I ask you. I need to know.

"R-rape ..." you gasp. You can barely say the word. I see the darkness of it on your face. I have never seen that darkness. Never. Not on your ship, not in the courtroom. Not following you around your life each day. You keep this well hidden.

Oh Kathryn. 

"I didn't know, Chakotay. I swear to God I never knew. If I had any idea you were going to a Cardassian prison ..."

You are shaking. Trembling. Fingers holding my shirt. Eyes huge and wide and like a child's on mine. In this moment, I see B'Elanna. I see Ayala. I see all my crew, naked and alone and dying and terrified. Your face is like a kick in the guts. Like a slap in the face. Like water, cold down my back. 

Your skirt's still up around your waist, and slowly you push it down. I let you. My erection is dying in the embers of the evening.

I let you get up. I let you straighten your hair, rub the blood back into your arms where you have been tied. I listen to you cry.

You are so beautiful, Kathryn Janeway. So incredibly beautiful. How could I hurt you?

You sit there, looking up at the sky and crying. Eyes like two crystals, twinkling with tears. Mouth like a small child's mouth. Trembling. You need to go home. You need to go home, call your mother, call your sister, call your boyfriend. Call Starfleet security.

I need to run once again for my fucking life.

I reach for you, and you're too numb to flinch. I kiss you, taste the heat of the tears in your mouth. Kiss each eyelid.

"Kathryn ..." I say. Wanting to say your name to you. Once.

"No," you say, looking at me. "You have to go. They'll send you back. It's part of the treaty."

I stare at you. You stare at me. I don't think I see fear in your face. I think I only see pity. Understanding. Oh Janeway, the old Chakotay was right about you. Whatever happened to the old Chakotay?

We lock eyes, you and I. We watch each other. We know each other.

Then I activate my transporter, not caring where it takes me. Hoping it takes me as far as I can possibly get.


End file.
